


The Wrong King

by FoundlingMother



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Loki Posing as Odin, Sif's Banishment, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundlingMother/pseuds/FoundlingMother
Summary: Lady Sif confronts "Odin".





	The Wrong King

“You are not Odin.”

Sif stands before him, blocking the exit to Odin’s study.

Lies twine around Loki’s silver tongue, ready to convince Sif she’s mistaken, but they do not escape past his lips. They’ve known each other since they were children. The pitiful truth is that no one, save for his family, knows Loki better. That he kept her ignorant for two years is impressive.

Loki summons seiðr to mute the conversation should a would-be eavesdropper pass the room. He lets his body shift, weight slipping away, wrinkles fading. The itch—the sensation of wrongness—lingers. It never goes away, only dulls. Loki’s skin never feels _right_.

Sif draws her blade.

“Run me through or call the guards. Retrieve your rightful king. You will find him on Midgard,” Loki offers. He leans forward, elbows propped up atop the cluttered desk, chin resting on steepled fingers.

Her stare falters, eyes shifting about the room. She purses her lips.

“Why do you hesitate? Is it because you know Odin will strip Hogun of the position he’s earned, and remove every low-born Einherjar from high ranking positions? Because he’ll dismiss the new, more autonomous council and reinstate his council of ancient, elitist fools? Or is it because he’ll crush the rebellions in Vanaheim and Nidavellir? You know what he’ll say, don’t you? That their wars threaten our security. That once they’ve finished overthrowing their leaders, they’ll march on our borders.”

Sif glares at him. Her finger taps against the sword hilt.

“You know I am a better king.”

Sif’s mouth twists into a scowl, but she sheathes her weapon. Her eyes remain narrowed, the full force of her ire trained on him. “Asgard is meant to protect the Nine Realms. People are dying,” she spits.

“Well yes. People tend to do so,” Loki muses, leaning back in his chair.

“You know I did not mean that in the general sense, Loki. There are good people dying for their freedom. Civilians who never asked for war, but find their livelihoods stripped from them by it. You act like you care about them, but you do not send us to aid these people.” She holds a moment, expectant. He offers her no explanation. Her fist clenches, shaking. “You are letting the innocent die!”

Loki stands, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Yes! I am! A child does not learn to walk when it’s carried, and these realms are not children, but grown men stunted by millennia of having their feet broken each time they attempt to stand. They desire a chance to stand on their own, and they will do so, or they will fall with their pride.”

“I will not serve a man who does not defend the righteous!”

“Then you’ve wasted centuries serving the wrong men, Lady Sif, and the king you’re searching for refused the throne.”

Sif blinks. Her fist remains curled, but the tension drains. She closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling.

“You will allow me to leave?” Sif asks.

Loki bites the inside of his cheek. He picks at a finger, catching the tick when he notices Sif watching his hands.

“And never return,” he agrees.

Sif nods once. “Then I will tell no one.”

She turns to leave. Loki transforms into Odin, swallowing his discomfort. He locates a stack of parchment, beginning a quick note to inform the council of Sif’s banishment.

“In truth, Loki,” Sif says, palm hovering before the doors, “the greatest shock is realizing you’ve ruled for over two years, and never erected a golden statue of yourself.” Sif glances over her shoulder, expression pinched.

Loki smirks, though Odin’s face cannot achieve the wickedness and glee of Loki’s own. “My apologies. I shall endeavor to lower myself to your expectations.”

Sif snorts and slips from the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this saved on my hard drive for a while. It's just a short musing on how Sif's banishment may have occurred without being painfully stupid... I also have ideas about where Sif goes after. Ideas that will be expanded upon in my alternate IW fic, [Zenith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440443/chapters/33354108).
> 
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